


I Will Be Your King (And You, You Will Be My Queen)

by Nevermore_red



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Jonathan/Nancy, Background Mike/Eleven, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Hopper Lives, Post Season 3, Season 3 Spoilers, Supportive Joyce, Trauma Recovery, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19836436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: Eight months after the events of Starcourt, and everything changes. Again.





	1. Chapter 1

El was the first to suggest that Hopper might not have died in the blast. Joyce had gently told her that it wasn’t possible. The girl hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen the damage done. Joyce had been. She knew that there was no way possible that he’d made it out. He had no way out. He’d been trapped.

It was a hard thing to explain to El, and even harder to catch her several times with a blind fold, trying desperately to find him even though her powers were still not working.

When Murray first called with the theory, Joyce had hung up on him. It hurt too bad to think about, and she refused to give in to delusion. Her kids needed her right now.

It was five months after the move had been made, and they were all settling into the new house. Jonathan had gone to college, leaving Will with the bunk bed all to himself. They would use it when the other boys came to visit. El had her own room, decorated in posters befitting a young teen girl. Joyce had a picture of her and Mike framed, and it sat on her nightstand, next to a picture of her and Hop on her first day of school. Joyce’s job at the K-Mart in town was paying well and her co-workers didn’t look at her like she was crazy. Here, they didn’t know her like that. They just knew her as the struggling single mom. The new house didn’t contain any memories of death and Demogorgon’s and lights that talked to her. But it also didn’t contain any of the good memories, either. No first steps from her boys, no Christmases past, no gathering of friends and laughter over music and Atari. There were no memories of dinners together, of sitting on the sofa watching Cheers with a man she was falling for. No memories of sharing a cigarette with another man that had come to hold her heart at the kitchen table.

As much as they all tried, this place didn’t feel like home. But Joyce was determined.

Spring break had come along, and the kids had all decided to spend it in Hawkins. Jonathan had picked them up to take them with him, leaving Joyce alone. She didn’t mind it. It made her happy that the kids all stayed in contact with each other, and Joyce knew that it was good for them all to spend time together.

She was, however, a little on edge after the first night they were gone. The phone had rung, and it jarred her uncomfortably when she realized who it was. Dr. Owens had been short and to the point. They had reason to believe that the Russians had smuggled someone out of Hawkins that night. The US had sent a covert sting team to a Russian prison that they believed the American was being held. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, but all intel pointed to it being a former law enforcement officer. A large white male, blue eyes and greying blond hair. Their leads told them that he was strong, a fighter, and cursed a lot. That he had given them absolutely nothing. No information on who he was, or anything about his life. All signs pointed to it being Jim Hopper. He’d just wanted her to know.

Joyce cried herself to sleep that night, images of Hopper in some dank prison cell, being beaten and tortured, but alive.

The next morning, not having slept at all, Joyce had sat at her kitchen table with a mug of black coffee. Her eyes were swollen, face puffy, and her heart aching. She wanted to hope, but didn’t know if she could bare it. The rest of her day went by in a haze. She refused to leave, not wanting to be away from the phone, just in case. She showered, dressed in whatever her hands touched first, and sat a kitchen chair right next to the phone on the wall, and smoked cigarette after cigarette, drank mug after mug of coffee. By the time the sun was setting, her entire body was racked with tremors. Too much nicotine, too much caffeine, not enough food. Too much stress. 

The knock on her front door just as night had truly set, had her jumping from her chair so fast, it fell over with a crash. Ignoring it, dropping her half-smoked cigarette to the linoleum in her haste, she ran to the front door and ripped it open.

There, at her front door in the illumination of the yellow porch light, stood Dr. Owens. Two uniformed men stood behind him, and between them was a man that was being mostly held up by the two. Joyce’s heart stopped painfully and then redoubled its pace enough to take her breath away when the man looked up at her. His face was gaunt, beard long and unruly, hair disheveled and tangled, but it was the same blue eyes that had been haunting her for the past eight months.

“Hopper.” She whispered, like saying his name might shatter the illusion of him being there. But then he stumbled away from the men holding him, knocking into Dr. Owens, and all but fell into her. Joyce wrapped her arms around him tightly, unnerved when her arms almost reached around his waist. She stumbled back with the weight of him, but managed to stay on her feet. Hopper had his arms around her shoulders and neck, her face held firmly into his chest, his head bowed down and face buried into her hair.

“Joyce.” His voice said back, all hoarse and rasp. He smelled awful and his clothes were ill fitting. The embrace was painful, but he was _alive_ and _here_ , so she clutched at the back of his shirt and held him even tighter.

After a few moments, Dr. Owens cleared his throat. Hopper kept hold of her with one arm, but Joyce managed to motion for Dr. Owens to come in. The uniforms stayed on the front porch. She led them into the kitchen, guided Hopper into a chair, and then pointed to one for Dr. Owens to sit in.

“Do you need anything?” she asked Hopper. “Something to drink, to eat? Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.” He rasped, then cleared his throat, blood shot eyes locked on her. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Bustling around, hands trembling still, Joyce blinked away her tears and quickly made two thick ham sandwiches and a large glass of milk, setting both in front of Hopper before taking the seat next to him. He dug into the sandwiches with one hand, but with the other, he reached out and grabbed hers. Joyce held on just as tight.

Dr. Owens explained things while Hopper ate. A ladder had led to a lower level of the vault they were in, beneath the machine. Just before Joyce managed to flip the switches, Hopper had found it, tumbled down it. He’d been knocked out by the fall and the fleeing Russians had found him, had confused him for a wounded comrade, and taken him with them. Later, when they realized he was American, they’d taken him to a prison. He’d been held there for the last eight months. Dr. Owens left out what exactly happened to him, but Joyce could imagine nothing great. By the time he was finished talking, Hopper had finished his food and milk. He sat quietly, slumped forward slightly.

“He refused to go anywhere with us.” Dr. Owens smiled. “Wanted to find you and his girl. We still have a lot of questions for him, but for now, he needs to rest. Figured here would be best for him. Not that he’d go anywhere else.”

Joyce agreed, thanked the man a million times, and followed him to the front door to let him out, promising to have Hopper call him tomorrow. When she made her way back into the kitchen, Hopper had fallen forward slightly, one arm braced on the table and holding his head up. He was asleep. Carefully Joyce went to his side, gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Jim.” She said his name softly, but he still jumped, jerking awake. His eyes flew around for a moment before landing on her and he relaxed. “Hey.” She smiled at him. “How about a shower, and then you can get some sleep in a bed.”

“Where’s El?” he asked.

“They went to Hawkins for spring break. We’ll call her tomorrow. I don’t want to scare her in the middle of the night.”

Hopper nodded. “You took her in?”

“Of course.” Joyce stood. “I love that girl, Hopper. She’s my girl. And that’s what her papers stated. You made sure that if anything happened to you, that she would go to me.”

“You’re the only person that I could trust her with.”

Joyce nodded, reaching out to take his hands and pull him to his feet. She pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you for that. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

She led him back to the bathroom and showed him how to adjust the water temperature. Once he was set, Joyce left him to undress and get in and she went to her bedroom. Digging around in her closet, she found the boxes of his things and found his clothes that she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of. A white t shirt, a pair of worn boxers, and blue pajama pants.

Carrying the things back to the bathroom, she noticed he kept the door opened a crack. She knocked softly anyway, pushing it open a bit more.

“Hey.” She called. “I got some clean clothes here for you.”

“Joyce.” His voice, over the sound of the shower, sounded broken and lost. It hurt her heart to hear.

“Oh, Hop.” She dropped the clothes on the sink, went to the closed curtain and reached a hand inside without opening it. He grabbed it instantly and she could tell from how low it was that he was sitting down. Pressing her back against the wall, she slid down to the floor, still holding his hand, and just listened to his hoarse crying from the other side of the curtain while she cried silently herself. He never once let go of her hand.

They sat like that for long moments, but then there was silence and he eventually let go of her hand. She pulled it back out from the curtain and stood.

“There’s clothes on the sink for you.” She said gently, and then left him to finish his shower.

It didn’t take him that long to make his way out into the living room where she waited. He was still so big, so broad, but she could tell from the way his t shirt bagged that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. His hair was still overly long, nearly reaching his shoulders, and his beard was still bushy and long. She wanted it gone, so she could see his face again, but that could wait. He looked dead on his feet, eyes blood shot and heavy. It didn’t take a genius to know he hadn’t been able to sleep on a real bed in all those months.

Joyce stood from the sofa, rounded it until she reached him. Picking up his hand, she led him down the hall to her bedroom. He sat on the edge of it, looking up at her. She hadn’t ever seen him this silent for so long, or so subdued. She hated it.

“I’ll sleep in El’s room.” She said. “You…get some rest. We’ll call El as soon as you wake up.”

He nodded, still silent. Joyce gave him a shaky smile. “I’m…I’m glad you’re alive, Hop.” With that, before she could break down in front of him, she turned to leave him. Before she’d even reached the doorway, he stopped her.

“Wait.” She turned back to look at him, brows pulled down in question. “Don’t…” he hesitated, licked his lips and shifted uncomfortably. “Sleep with me.” His eyes flicked back to hers. “Please.”

Unable to deny him, even if she’d wanted to, Joyce nodded. Hopper laid down, just pulling the sheet over him. Joyce turned off the bedside lamp and rounded to the opposite side before sliding in next to him. They didn’t touch, but they were both rolled up on their sides facing each other. Hopper slid a hand across the mattress, stopping halfway between them. Joyce covered it with her own. Tears slipped out of her eyes, rolled down her temple and wet her pillow.

“I missed you.” She confessed. Hopper squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a second, his fingers gripping her hand harder.

“I missed you, too.” He opened his eyes to look at her, a sad smile on his face. It reminded her of the one he gave her right before she flipped the switches. She caught a sob in her throat.

“I’m so sorry.” She cried. “I didn’t want to. God, you must know I would have done anything not to flip those switches. I didn’t have a choice. My kids, _our_ kids, they…” she broke off when her voice wouldn’t allow her anymore. “I’m so sorry, Jim. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Hey, hey.” He tugged on her hand, slid closer to her until he could wrap an arm around her waist and pulled her into his chest. His arms were around her, one hand cradling her head to his chest while she cried. “It’s okay. I know, Joyce. I know it. I’m so fucking sorry you were ever in that position. I’m sorry that I didn’t just believe you in the beginning. I’m an asshole. I was a complete ass to you. I’m sorry.”

Joyce sniffed, enjoying that he smelled cleaner, even if it was her body wash. And then she let out a laugh, half hysterical.

“You were an ass.” She whispered, then pulled back her head so she could look up at him. “But you were there. Like you always were. You had my back. Like you said, we made a pretty good team.”

“Yeah.” He grinned, hidden by that bushy beard, but there all the same. So close to her old Hopper.

“Go to sleep.” She sighed, settling her head near his chest again. “We can sort through everything later. We have time now.”

“Yeah.” He said again, and his arms tightened around her a little. “Yeah, we do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hopper slept restlessly. He tossed back and forth, woke up with a jolt and a yell a few times. Joyce was always there, urging him back to the bed where she held him until he fell back asleep. It wasn’t until about sunrise that he finally fell into a deep sleep. Joyce knew that he needed the sleep, so she didn’t wake him. She also knew that he was going to be famished when he woke up, and that he would need a haircut and a shave. After laying with him for a few hours, she slipped out of bed around seven and went into Will’s bedroom. In his closet was a box of things that Jonathan hadn’t taken to college with him. In there she found a pair of electric clippers. Setting them on the sink in the bathroom, she pulled out the kit she used to cut the boys hair from under the sink and took it into the kitchen. Once that was all set, she started on breakfast.

Somewhere between finishing off a giant stack of pancakes and frying up the bacon, Hop came stumbling into the kitchen. She turned to greet him with a smile, but it fell from her face when she saw the panicked look on his face.

“What is it?” she sat down the spatula and made her way over to him. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” He breathed, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. He was breathing hard, but working at getting it under control. “Nothing. I just woke up and you were gone and…”

“Oh.” She instantly felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to have some food ready for you when you woke up.”

“No, it’s fine.” He waved her off. “Smells good.”

“I laid some clippers on the bathroom sink so you can…” she motioned to his beard with a grimace. Hopper chuckled, reaching up to rub a hand across it.

“Don’t like the beard, huh?” he teased. “Guess I don’t really either. It itches.”

“I bet.” She smiled. “Go do that.” She shooed him. “I’ll finish up here, and then we’ll call El.”

He nodded and then left. About fifteen minutes later, he came back out. He’d left a mustache, and a short, groomed beard. He looked much more like himself, and it made his hair look even longer.

Once he sat, she put a plate in front of him with a glass of milk.

“Sorry about the bacon.” She gave him an apologetic look. “It’s a bit…crispy.”

It was burnt. Her bacon was always burnt. Will was the bacon cooker in the house. Hop just shrugged, and stuffed a blackened slice into his mouth before starting to work on the pancakes. He ended up eating two plates. Once he was finished, he sat back in the chair with a content sigh and patted his stomach.

“Give me a week and I bet you’ll have me back to my fat self.”

“You were never fat.” She scolded, grabbing up his empty plate. “You were…hefty.”

“Hefty?” he snorted. “That’s a mom word for fat.”

“Hush, you.” She swatted at him. “Want a smoke before we call?”

“I haven’t smoked in eight months.” He sighed, looking down at her pack of Camels on the table. “Don’t think I should start up again, you know? El was always on my ass after reading some article about how unhealthy it is.”

Joyce nodded, grabbing up the pack and tossing it into her purse that hung on the hook near the front door.

“I think I should call her first.” Joyce said, coming back to sit next to him at the table. “I don’t want to frighten her by you calling, you know? Not without warning.”

Hopper nodded, but she could tell he was anxious to be able to talk to her, so Joyce grabbed the phone and quickly called the Wheeler’s number. Mike answered.

“Hey, Mike.” Joyce greeted. “How’re things?”

“Good, Mrs. Byers. Will’s still asleep. You want to talk to Jonathan? Him and Nancy are out back.”

“No, actually. Is El there? I’d like to talk to her.”

“She stayed at Max’s last night. Is…is that not okay?”

“No, honey, that’s just fine. I told her she could stay just so long as your mom knew where she was going. Thank you. Tell the boys I’ll be calling them soon.”

Hanging up with Mike, noticing how Hopper’s leg was starting to bounce impatiently and he was chewing on his thumb nail, Joyce quickly dialed Max’s number. Several rings in and Max picked up.

“Max, sweetie, hi.”

“Hey, Mrs. Byers. You looking for El?”

“She up yet?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

Three was some rustling and some giggling, and then El was picking up the phone.

“Morning, mom.” Joyce’s eyes flicked up to Hopper, who’s eyes went a bit wide when he heard what El called her through the phone.

“Morning, baby. You having fun?”

“So much. Max gave me her old bike and we’ve been riding around with the boys. Lucas says he’s going to teach me to pop a wheeler.”

Max said something in the background.

“Oh, I mean a wheelie.”

“That sounds fun. But, hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about, okay?”

“Okay?” El said hesitantly.

“Where are you? Are you sitting down?”

There was some rustling about. “Yes. I am now. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. It’s something so great, baby. So, so great. The day you guys left; I got a phone call. They found your dad, honey. They found Hopper. He’s alive.”

“Alive.” El repeated and Joyce choked a bit on a laugh, and Hopper reached out to take her hand.

“Yes. Alive. He came here last night. He’s…he’s a bit rough, but he’s alive and well.”

“He’s there, right now?” El asked and Joyce started nodding even though she couldn’t see her.

“Yeah. He’s right here. Hang on and you can talk to him.”

Handing the phone off to Hop, he took it with a shaky hand. He licked his lips a few times, brought the phone to his ear, and cleared his throat.

“Hey, El.”

Joyce couldn’t make out exactly what El was saying, but she knew for sure that she was crying.

“No, no. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry, too.”

Feeling like she was intruding on a private moment, Joyce gave Hop’s hand a squeeze and then went outside onto the front porch, grabbing her smokes as she went. She’d made it through an entire cigarette and had been sitting on the rickety porch swing for about twenty minutes when Hopper came out. His eyes were red rimmed, but he was smiling.

“She okay?” Joyce asked and Hopper nodded, sitting down next to her on the swing.

“Yeah. Confused, excited, worried, had a million damn questions. But she’s okay.”

“I’m going to assume they’re coming home?”

Hopper nodded. “Said she was going to head back to the Wheelers after she got dressed. You might wanna call your boys. Give them some warning. Told her not to tell any of the adults or anyone yet. Just the ones that would understand. I can go get her if Jon doesn’t want to leave just yet.”

“Nonsense.” She patted his knee. “The boys missed you too. They’ll want to see you.”

“Maybe I should go back to Hawkins, anyway. Get my place in order.”

“You’re still legally dead, Hopper.” She reminded him. “And your cabin sold.”

“Huh.” He huffed. “At least that gave you some money.”

“I put it in a savings for El, Jim.” She glared at him. “It’s hers. Not mine.”

Hopper gave her a raised brow look. “Mine became yours eight months ago. My will made damn sure of that. El was the only thing that counted, but you could have had whatever else you wanted.” 

“She’s the only thing I wanted.” Joyce said. _Other than you_ , she thought, but didn’t say.

Giving his knee one last pat, she went back in to call the Wheelers and prepare Jonathan and Will. They were both excited, with a million questions too, but Joyce assured them everything would be answered in due time. For now, she just wanted them to come home so that El could see her dad again.

“It’ll be five hours or so before they get home.” Joyce said once Hopper came back in. “Let me cut your hair, and then you can call Owens.” 

Hopper grumbled about having to make the call, but Joyce sat him in a kitchen chair and draped a towel around his shoulders. Using a comb, she brushed out his hair, and for some reason it made her eyes sting. How many times in those last few months before the 4th had she imagined running her fingers through his hair? How many times in the last eight months had she dreamed about it, and woken up crying at the realization it would never happen.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she picked up the scissors and started cutting. Hopper kept his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed and a small little smile on his lips while she worked. It gave her plenty of chances to really look at him, to take in all those handsome features of his face. She kept it like he normally cut it in the past, a little longer but pushed back from his face. Standing in front of him, Joyce sat the scissors down on the table and used both hands to brush the hair off his forehead. He sighed at the touch, eyes fluttering open and Joyce smiled when he looked at her. Letting one hand drop away from his face, she let the fingers of her right hand trail across his forehead, over his temple, tracing the crow’s feet in the corner of his eye, and then down his cheek. His grin had faded, and so had hers, replaced by a tight throat and a pounding want in her belly. Hopper caught her hand at his cheek, pressed it into his skin more firmly as he leaned his head into the touch.

God. He was alive and Joyce both wanted to cry with the loss of all the time that had passed and laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of him still being alive. Sitting in her kitchen, covered in pieces of hair, wearing a ratty yellow towel around his shoulders, and looking up at her like…like she was so much more than Crazy Joyce.

Still holding her gaze, he tilted his head to the side, caught her palm with his lips, pressed a kiss to the middle of it. Joyce felt a little weak kneed, which was stupid, but she reached up with her free hand to hold onto his shoulder.

“Hopper.” She choked out his name, and he hummed into her palm. “Hop, you need to call Owens. And I need to clean up all this hair.”

Closing his eyes with a low growl, Hopper led her hand go, but she still couldn’t bring herself to step away.

“Fuck Owens.” He pouted and Joyce couldn’t help but laugh.

“Owens brought you back.” She reminded him. “Just call and answer his questions.”

With a roll of his eyes and some more grumbling, he let Joyce take the towel and then got up to go to the phone on the wall. There was a card stuck between it and the wall with the number and he snatched it up, then dialed the number. Joyce made herself busy cleaning up all the hair and then went to her bedroom to pull out the boxes of his clothes. Dumping them onto the bed, she started to separate and fold them so that he could find everything easily. It also gave her something to do while staying out of his way while he took care of things with Owens. He didn’t have much, just a few pair of jeans, a handful of t shirts and another of button ups. There were some socks, a stack of underwear, and two more pair of pajamas other than the ones he still wore. It didn’t take her long to have everything folded and sitting in their places on her bed. She still had his uniform, but for the past eight months she’d been using it as a sleep shirt and it was in the wash, along with a few other of his shirts that El had taken to sleeping in as well. She could still hear Hopper talking in the kitchen, so she decided to get dressed herself. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a blue shirt that she was pretty sure used to be Jonathans, she went to the bathroom and got dressed, then brushed her teeth and hair. After that, she snuck out on the front porch to smoke.

Half an hour later, Hopper came out. He’d gotten dressed, too. His jeans were a little baggy on him, and so was the shirt, but for the first time since he came back, he truly looked like the old Hopper.

“Hey.” She smiled at him. “How’d that go?”

“I’m tired of talking about it.” He looked out at her front lawn and leaning on the porch railing. “Ohio, huh?”

Joyce nodded and stood up to stand next to him. “Still close, but far enough away. And Jonathan isn’t too far away either.”

Hopper nodded, still looking out at the nothingness that was in front of them. “If…If I’d have made it out, would you have still left?”

Joyce sighed, shoulders slumping as she leaned her elbows on the railing. “Probably not.” She admitted. “With you there, I had something, someone, that knew. Someone other than the kids. Someone who would have understood and…and would have made damn sure we were safe.” She nudged his shoulder with hers, looking up at him when he finally looked down at her.

“Would you come back, if I go back?”

Joyce looked away. She didn’t know. Hawkins had taken so much from her. Going back…going back might mean putting her kids at risk again. Putting Hopper at risk again. But, if he went back, surely, he’d be taking El with him. El…El was her girl now, just as much as she was Hoppers. Joyce couldn’t bare the thought of being separated from her. And El needed Joyce, too.

“I don’t know.” She said honestly. “I don’t want to lose El, Hop. Or…or you, again, but…”

“I know.” He stopped her, putting an arm around her shoulders. Joyce easily leaned into it, putting her head on his shoulder. “I know. We’ll see how it goes, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She agreed. “We’ll see how it goes.”

They didn’t talk about it anymore. Instead, they went inside and dropped onto the sofa. They watched daytime television after Joyce called into work. Reruns of old movies and shows. It was nice. They didn’t need to fill the space with talk. Hopper was still on edge, she could tell. He didn’t ever fully relax into the sofa, and he never let go of her hand. He was more at ease when he was touching her, or she was touching him. Like maybe he needed the tangible proof that she was really there, and that he was really here, not in some far away prison freezing and wasting away.

They needed time; Joyce knew. Things had happened to him that would likely affect him for a long time to come. But Joyce planned on being there, to help him, to support him. He’d done it once for her, so long ago when she’d lost her boy. Now it was her turn. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I was totally confused about how old Jonathan was. I thought he was Steve’s age and therefor graduated and was heading to college instead of just a senior like Nancy. My bad lol. Please forgive me this mistake and I hope it doesn’t take away from the rest of the story!

The tires crunching across the gravel in the drive gave them the clue that the kids were home. Hopper had been pacing the living room for the past thirty minutes, occasionally looking out the blinds and complaining about how long it was taking and worrying if maybe they’d gotten lost. Joyce was amused by it mostly, telling him that it was fine and they’d be here in due time. It was cute, seeing him all in dad mode, but she also knew there was this underlining hurt that kept filtering through and tinging everything a little bleak.

Joyce had managed to urge him back onto the sofa so they could figure out what sort of pizzas to order since she didn’t have enough food in the house for everyone. It was, after all, supposed to have been only her here for the next week. Not that she was complaining, at all. That’s when they heard the tires. Hoppers eyes flew up to hers from the paper menu they were looking at, wide and excited like a little kid on Christmas. Joyce smiled at him gently and he scrambled off the sofa, rushing to the door and ripping it open. Joyce followed behind him a little slower.

El must have been getting out of the backseat before Jonathan had even stopped because by the time Joyce reached the front porch, Hopper was on the front lawn on his knees, holding a crying El to his chest. Joyce stopped at the top of the steps, eyes watering as she took in the scene. Will was standing behind El now and Hopper reached out with one arm and Will tucked himself into El’s back so that he could join in the hug. And then Jonathan was there, standing off to the side, a little watery eyed, with his hand on Hopper’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe it was real.” Nancy said softly, coming up the stairs to stand next to Joyce. “We didn’t quite believe it. I thought it was just…miscommunication.”

“Nope.” Joyce smiled, putting her arm around the girl that held her oldest sons’ heart. “He’s really here.”

“Thank God.” Nancy sighed. “I mean, poor El. She didn’t deserve losing him. And you.” Nancy looked at her, eyes wide and serious. “You’ve been through enough. You both deserve to have him back.”

Joyce’s stomach turned at the idea that Hop was hers to have back, but she just smiled at Nancy instead, giving her a tighter squeeze. “I’m glad you came, too. Jonathan would be disappointed if he lost the time with you.”

The group in the yard slowly withdrew from each other, Jonathan coming up onto the porch first, and then the other three shortly behind. Hopper was holding El’s hand and the girl didn’t stray too far from her dad’s side. Joyce gave Jonathan a quick hug, ruffled Will’s hair before dropping a kiss to his forehead, and then brought El into a tight hug.

“Thank you, mom.” El said into her shoulder and Joyce glanced over at Hopper. He raised his brow, but didn’t say anything.

“Thank me for what, honey?” Joyce stepped back so she could look at El.

“For bringing my dad back.” She smiled up at Hopper.

“That’s wasn’t me, El.” Joyce said softly.

“Maybe not.” El looked at her. “But you kept the memory of him alive for me. And now, he’s here.”

Joyce looked over at Hopper. His eyes were watery and Joyce had to blink away her own tears. He mouthed ‘thank you’ and Joyce just shook her head.

“Come on, then.” She shooed everyone towards the door. “Inside. I’ll call in the pizza.”

The rest of the evening was spent crowded in the living room. El showed Hopper how good she’d gotten at the Atari and Jonathan brought out a box of photos that he’d taken the last eight months so that Hopper could look at them. They told stories of events and things that had happened and Hopper smiled and nodded and rolled his eyes at all the right times. After pizza and nightfall and more stories and tears, Will and El eventually fell asleep in the living room. Will was on the floor where he’d been laying to watch TV, and El was curled up onto the sofa, her head in Hopper’s lap. Joyce was sitting next to Hopper, their thighs pressed together when Nancy and Jonathan excused themselves with whispers and quiet good nights so they could go to bed.

“You let them sleep together?” Hopper asked once they were gone.

“They would be anyway.” She shrugged. “She’d sneak out of El’s room and end up with him. And I trust Jonathan. He’ll be safe and smart. Besides,” she looked at him with a grin. “It’s better than in the backseat of her dad’s car, right?”

Hopper chuckled silently, looking down at El’s head as he smoothed his fingers through her hair.

“So,” he looked up at her. “Mom, huh?”

Joyce shrugged. “It was about four months ago. We were talking in the kitchen and she called me it. Then worried and apologized that she’d overstepped. I told her she could call me whatever she wanted. It’s been ‘mom’ ever since then.” She looked down at El and reached out to brush some hair off her forehead as well. “She is my girl, Hopper. I love her like a daughter.”

“I know.” Hopper rumbled. “Thank you for that.”

Joyce nodded, then moved her hand from El’s forehead to grab hold of his wrist to stop his movements. “Let’s get them to bed. She’s had a long, emotional day.”

Hopper nodded, and then shifted off the sofa before scooping her up into his arms. Once he’d carried her off to bed, Joyce urged Will up and helped guide him to his room as he stumbled sleepily down the hall. Then she tiptoed to El’s bedroom and looked through the door. El was laying in bed, still sleeping, and Hop was on his knees next to it, just looking at her.

“Hopper.” Joyce whispered and he looked back at her. “Come on.” She jerked her head behind her. Hop nodded, then stood, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then joined Joyce in the hall.

She didn’t bother asking him if he wanted her to sleep on the sofa, nor did she ask him to. Instead, they both went to her room and she gathered up her pajamas.

“I’ll dress in the bathroom. You can here.”

Hopper nodded and Joyce left him to it. She took her time in the bathroom, changing and brushing her hair and teeth. Then she washed her face, put lotion on her hands, and then went to her bedroom. The door was open a crack, but she knocked before pushing it open further.

“All decent?” she asked.

“As decent as I’ll ever be.” He replied and Joyce came the rest of the way in. He was in his boxers and a white under shirt sitting on the edge of the bed.

“There’s a toothbrush in the wrapper in the medicine cabinet.” She told him. “You can use whatever you find in there for whatever you need.”

Hopper slapped his knees, took a deep breath, and then pushed up to stand. He paused when he was next to her, reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Joyce.”

Joyce nodded, thinking maybe he was talking about more than the toothbrush, but not wanting to push it. Then he was gone and she crawled into bed on the side she’d slept on last night, leaving the door open and the bedside lamp on. A while later, he came in, hesitated for a brief second at the door, and then came in and lay down next to her, reaching back to flick the lamp off. They didn’t curl up together, or cuddle. She wanted to give him space, and he allowed it, laying on his back. She was just drifting off, on her side facing him, when she felt his hand reach out and wrap around hers. She smiled without opening her eyes, and threaded their fingers together.

The night passed like the night before, which was restless for Hopper with a frequent amount of times when he jerked awake, panting and scared before Joyce reminded him where he was, and he would lay back down and slowly drift off again.

Sometime just after sunrise, Joyce was jolted awake by El’s crying in the hall.

“Dad?” she cried out. “Hop? Where are you?!”

Hopper was out cold, mouth open and snoring. Joyce sat up in bed, and yelled back. “In here, El!” she shouted. “He’s right here, honey.” Hopper jerked at her voice, and bolted upright in bed. Joyce grabbed his forearm, trying to calm him.

A second later, El was slamming into the doorframe in her haste. She looked around with wide, panicked eyes, until she locked in on Hopper. Her bottom lip quivered and she let out a shaky breath.

“Right here, kid.” Hopper rasped, even though he was still trying to catch his own breath. He reached out with both arms and El threw herself into them.

“I woke up and I was in bed and I was scared it was all a dream.” She cried.

“I’m sorry.” Hopper whispered, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “But it’s not a dream, I’m right here.”

Joyce decided to give them some time alone together, so she patted Hopper’s shoulder until he looked at her. She tipped her head to the door and he nodded, still trying to soothe El.

They stayed in her bedroom for a few hours. Joyce never went back in and once the boys and Nancy woke up, she told them to leave them alone. Instead they made breakfast and watched the morning news. Joyce had to go to work today, so once El came out to get some food, Joyce went back to the bedroom to get ready.

“Hey.” She said gently when she saw Hopper sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked drained, but he gave her a half smile. “You okay?”

“No.” he shook his head. “But I will be.”

Joyce nodded. “Um, I’m supposed to be at work in an hour. If you want me to, I’ll call in.”

“Don’t do that.” He stood up. “Don’t want you to lose your job on account of me.”

“You’d be worth it.” She said, trying for flippant, but the way Hopper’s eyes flew to hers told her she’d missed the mark. She looked away, feeling overwhelmed by the look he was giving her. “But, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “You’re right. You just relax at the house with the kids and I’ll be home a little after five with dinner.”

Work lasted forever. The nine to five shift had never felt so endless. At four she gave up on her waiting and clocked out, then begged her boss to cover her shifts for the rest of the week, which he actually agreed to. After a quick shop around for some groceries, she headed home.

Everyone was sitting in the living room on the floor around the coffee table, a Scrabble board set out in the middle. Jonathan jumped up when she pushed the door open and he saw all the bags. She waved Hopper off from doing the same, and together her and Jonathan got the stuff put away and then she went to grab a quick shower and changed into some comfortable clothes.

Nancy and Jonathan insisted on cooking dinner, so Joyce took their spot in the living room and played Scrabble until the food was ready. Dinner was loud and happy and when she’d look across the table at Hopper, he would catch her eye, a look of near disbelief of his face that he was actually there. She would give him an encouraging smile and he would work at adding to the conversations going on around them.

“El and I will do the dishes.” Will said once they were done. “Since Jonathan cooked.”

“Thank you, sweeties.” Joyce handed will her empty plate, then pressed a kiss to El’s head.

“Think I’ll grab a shower.” Hopper said, standing up and stretching. “Towels?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll show you.” Joyce led him back to the bathroom and the cabinet in the hall where the linens and towels were kept. She pulled out one and a wash rag and handed them to him.

“Hey, uh.” Hopper stopped her when she went to leave. “Can you…hang by the door?” he looked sheepish, not quite looking at her while scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just, there, showers were…”

“No, it’s fine.” Joyce stopped him. “I’ll be right here.” She patted the wall next to the door and he let out a relieved breath.

“Thanks.” He opened the door and stepped in, then looked back at her. “Don’t, uh, don’t close the door all the way.”

Joyce nodded sadly, heart twisting at the idea of all the horror he’d gone through. She stood there, back against the wall, and listened as he undressed and turned on the shower. Then he was pulling the curtain shut. It wasn’t even a full minute later that she heard the first hoarse sob and she didn’t hesitate. She slipped in the door, pressed it shut, and took up the same spot as the last time, with her hand inside the curtain and his fingers clutching at hers while he cried almost silently. And just like the last time, she kept quiet until he was finished, and he’d let go of her hand. Then she left him to finish while she took up post next to the cracked door.

It was a routine that they kept up for the rest of the week. Until Jonathan left to take Nancy back home and the kids started back to school and Joyce had to go back to work. It didn’t matter how the rest of the day went, every time Hopper took a shower, which was usually in the morning after the kids were gone and before Joyce went to work, she would wait by the curtain until he would start crying, and then she would reach inside and hold his hand until he was done. It was something the kids didn’t know about, and that Joyce and Hopper never talked about before or after. It was just what they did.

Hopper spent most of his days at the house fixing up things, like the broken back door or the leaking kitchen sink. He ripped out the stained carpet in the hall and was working on replacing it. He fixed all the stuck windows and even got the dryer to stop making so much noise when it ran. It was busy work, Joyce new, to keep his mind from wondering and his hands busy. He was also one the phone with Owens often and then the day came that a package was delivered. James David Hopper was no longer dead. He was given his life back, officially, with a neat and concise explanation for the past eight months all wrapped up, including the full custody of Jane Elinor Hopper.

It was all he talked about that evening, excitedly talking about how he could actually move on now. That he could get a job again, and a house and actually tell his friends in Hawkins that he was alive. Joyce smiled and tried to be happy for him, but she couldn’t help but feel a little sick at the idea. He would probably move now, back to Hawkins with El in tow. There would be no more nights spent in bed together, of finding themselves moving closer and closer and holding each other while the slept since the nightmares began to abate. No more family dinners and games. No more sitting with him on the sofa and watching some old western or, El’s favorite, Miami Vice. She’d go back to being Single Mom Joyce who worked at K-Mart. Joyce who slept alone and didn’t have anyone there that made her feel safe. Alone, and lonely.

When they went to bed, Joyce rolled on her side away from him and pretended to be asleep so she didn’t have to hear any more about his future plans that hadn’t once included her or her boys. Hopper didn’t try to wake her up, just flipped the light off and lay down next to her. He didn’t curl up around her back, but he did snake a leg over next to her until she wrapped her ankles around his calf. Just needed to touch him. She kept her tears silent and prayed that maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad as she thought it would when he was no longer next to her.

The morning was a hectic rush. Will had slept through his alarm and they ended up running late and almost missed the bus. When Hopper came back in from watching them get on, Joyce finished up cleaning up the kitchen and he went to get in the shower. Once she’d finished the last dish, she groggily made her way into the bathroom as well, sitting on the closed toilet until he would need her. She had her legs crossed, elbow braced on her knee and chin in her hand, eyes closed and close to sleep again when the sound of the curtain being jerked open had her waking up. Waking up to a completely naked and dripping wet Hopper standing in the shower.

“Shit!” he nearly jumped when he saw her there, quickly dropping both hands to cover his crotch and for a staggering moment, all Joyce could think was that it took _two_ hands to cover everything. And then she blinked and stumbled to her feet.

“Hopper!” she gasped, rushing to grab the towel off the sink and thrust it at him. “What the hell?”

“What the hell?” he shot back, grabbing the towel from her to wrap around his waist while she tried not to look. “You just sit on the toilet when I’m in the shower?”

“You normally need me!” she nearly shouted. “For over a damn week now I’ve been in here with you so I could hold your hand. How did you not remember that?”

“I…I…, shit, Joyce, I don’t know.” He stepped out of the tub and Joyce realized how small her bathroom was. “I didn’t think about it.” 

“I guess not.” She scoffed. “Guess you need to get used to showering alone anyway, seeing as this isn’t going to last much longer.”

Pushing past him so she could get to the door, Joyce tried to calm her racing heart, but she was flustered and instead of admitting that, she was just going to act like she was mad at him.

“Hang on a damn second.” He reached out and grabbed her upper arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” she jerked her arm away from him. “That you’re leaving, right? I’m not stupid, Jim. You’ll go back to Hawkins to your job and take El. Just make sure she calls me every once in a while.” With that, she stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door. She needed a smoke, like right now.

But, of course, Hopper followed her out in his towel and nothing else and stopped her just inside the kitchen.

“Where’d you get that idea, huh?” he asked, rounding around her so he was blocking her from getting to her purse and her smokes.

“My brain.” She pointed to her head with a roll of her eyes. “Again, I’m not stupid, Jim.”

“Stop calling me Jim!” he snapped. “You only call me that when you’re mad at me and I haven’t done a damn thing to make you mad.”

“Oh, yeah?” she crowded up into his space, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You’re taking El, my girl, _my daughter_ , away from me! You’re leaving me!”

“Joyce.” He said in exasperation, grabbing her finger to stop the jabbing. “Come here.” He tugged her into the kitchen and pushed her into a chair. Then he went to the fridge and grabbed something from on top of it. Bringing it over to her, he sat a red folder in front of her. She gave him a confused look, but took the folder and opened it. Inside there were papers. A listing for a house, a beautiful old farm house with a wrap around porch and a second story. The next few papers were pictures of the inside, descriptions of the property and the schools. It wasn’t in Hawkins, it was just outside of it, but close enough that the schools were still Hawkins schools.

“What is this?” Joyce asked, looking up at him where he still stood in his towel.

“It’s a house.” He rubbed a hand through his wet hair. “Four beds, three baths, five acres. It was my granddads at one time. It needs some work, some fixing up, but it’s mine. Another thing you can thank Owens for, I guess.”

“It’s beautiful, Hop.” Joyce said through a tight throat. “I’m sure El will love living there.”

Hop sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face before kneeling down so he was on her level, hands on the back of her chair so he was surrounding her.

“The house is too big for just the two of us.” He grinned. “Besides, El needs her mom, Joyce. And, to be quite fucking honest, I need you too. I’m a damn mess, honey, but I’m always gonna be. You, you make the mess less chaotic.”

“What are you saying, Hopper?” she asked unsurely, heart beating wildly and a funny feeling rising up in her throat.

“I’m saying, you hard headed woman, that I want you to come live with me in this house. Let me make it home for you and the boys.” 

Joyce gave a watery laugh, a tentative hope tinged with reluctance taking hold.

“Live with you. Like…”

“Like a family.” He cut in. “Like a mom and a dad living with their kids. And I’m gonna be honest here, Horowitz, I want you so,” he cut off, clenching his jaw with a rumble in his throat. It sent a shiver up Joyce’s spine, a tingle between her thighs. “I can show you. Show you how I want you. Or…” he tipped his head to the side, making sure she was looking at him and knowing that he was completely serious.

“Or one of those other bedrooms can be yours and we can just be this odd, mashed up family unit and we can stay friends. Just friends.”

“What if you find a woman?”

“No.” he shook his head. “You’re it, Joyce. Whatever way you chose to be that woman, you are going to be the only woman in my life.”

That hope in her chest bloomed and took root and Joyce felt this deep-set happiness that he was giving her whatever choice she wanted. This was all in her control. 

Taking a breath, Joyce lifted a hand and placed it on his still damp chest, then slid it up to cup the back of his neck.

“Then I guess you should show me just how you want me then, Hop.”

A grin curled his mouth, eyes shinning with awe and joy, and then he let his hands fall from the back of her chair to come to rest on her hips. She gasped when he tugged her forward sharply so that her legs were forced to bracket his waist.

“My pleasure.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Laying on her back, bra askew and underwear hanging from her ankle, Joyce tried to calm her rapid breathing as she stared at the whirling ceiling fan. Her body was still thrumming, an aching dissatisfaction pounding between her legs.

“That…” Hopper stopped before he’d really started talking next to her, and Joyce let her head fall to the side so she could see him. He was laying next to her, completely naked, with a sort of shell-shocked look on his face as he looked anywhere but at her.

“It’s fine.” She offered awkwardly, then cleared her throat as she looked back up.

Truthfully, it _was_ fine. The lead up was wonderful. The minutes from the kitchen to here were thrilling and hot. Hopper kissed her like she was going to disappear any second, and his hands felt amazing on her body as he tore at her clothes haphazardly while they stumbled back to her bedroom. She enjoyed (had always enjoyed) how much bigger than her he was, how he overwhelmed her with his size and strength. By the time he tossed her onto the bed, she was throbbing with want, dripping with desire for him. She’d clutched at his back, used her legs to wrap around his hips and brought him to her, and then into her.

Now, Joyce sort of remembered how he’d been mumbling and rasping that he needed a minute, but Joyce was wild with want. She wanted him to fill her and thrust into her until she flew apart.

But he’d barely managed a grind forward with his hips and he’d come himself.

“No.” Hop shook his head, bringing a hand up to scrub over his face. “It’s not.” He finally tipped his head to the side to look at her, all sheepish and embarrassed. “It’s, uh…well. It’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve had a woman. And the prison wasn’t really the place for self-pleasure. And, damn Joyce, it’s _you_. I’ve wanted you since I was in sixth grade.”

With a giggle, Joyce kicked her underwear the rest of the way off her ankle and then rolled up on her elbow so that she was just above him. “So, it’s been a while, huh?” she teased. “How long is a while?”

Hopper blew out a breath and huffed in self-deprecation. “Shit…probably when you were still with Bob.”

“That long?” she asked, both brows raised, hand coming up to toy with his chest hair.

“Yeah.” He placed his hand over hers, picking it up to play with her fingers. “Being a single dad to a teen girl isn’t the best for the lifestyle I’d been living before. ‘Sides,” he looked up at her. “I was ready for something more.”

“Mm.” Joyce leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his mouth, meaning to pull back immediately, but Hopper caught her bottom lip, deepened the kiss and they got a little distracted. In a good way. The sort of way that included Hopper pushing her onto her back and coming over the top of her. And then he was drawing those hot kisses down her throat and chest, pushing her bra cups out of the way so that he could get to her nipples. He spent an ample amount of time there, kissing and sucking, nipping and teasing until she was writhing again, that dull ache flaming back into a sharp want.

“God, Jim.” She sighed as he moved further down, scraping his beard over her belly and nipping at her belly button. One of his hands was rubbing her hip and the other was pressing between her thighs, finding her wet center and groaning into her skin as his fingers parted her, teased up and down until he found her clit. She could feel herself swelling around his fingers, wanting more, turned on a mind-numbing amount at the idea he was using his come to aid in his movements.

“You wanna come on my fingers, or on my mouth?” Hop asked, then bit her hip. Joyce jumped a little, glancing down to find him looking right back at her.

“But there’s, you know, _you_ on me.” She sputtered, hips surging up against his fingers.

“So?” he licked just above her pubic bone. “So long as my tongues on you, I don’t give a damn.”

“Alright.” Joyce nodded, dropping her head back to the pillow. “Ok, yeah. Just…please.”

With a raspy chuckle, Hopper pushed his fingers down until they were sliding up inside of her and then his tongue was on her, picking up where his fingers left off. He worked her up slowly, tight circles of his tongue with the occasional suck, his fingers pumping slowly, crooked in just the right way.

“Oh, shit.” She gasped, the edge just right there. She grabbed hold of the back of his head, hips jerking against his mouth and then it was there, just there and, “Oh, God, Jim!”

Hopper made a humming sound between her legs as pleasure washed over her, leaving her twitching and panting as he stayed with her. When her hands lessened their grip on his hair, he finally crawled back up her body, dropping wet kisses as he went.

“Christ.” She sighed, eyes closing in content as he nuzzled into her neck, one hand reaching under her to undo her bra and pull it off, tossing it off the bed.

“Good?” he asked, lips tickling her ear.

“Yes.” She nudged him in the hip with her knee. “Like you couldn’t tell.”

Hopper chuckled, then braced himself on his elbows so that he was hovering over her. “You ready for more, or you done?”

When he asked, he rolled his hips against her, letting her feel just how ready he was again.

“Come on then, big boy.” She grinned, lifting her knees to bracket his hips. “Let’s go.”

Hopper laughed again, shaking his head, and then he kissed her. “You’re something else, Joyce.”

“Mhm.” She agreed. “Horny, is what I am. What are you going to do about that?”

Hopper bit his bottom lip holding back a smirk, and then his hips notched forward, his cock sliding across her wet skin until he was at her opening. Then he pressed forward in one smooth motion and Joyce arched her back with it, gasping at how good it felt.

“That’s what I’m gonna do about it, Horowitz.” He bit her chin, then pulled back to thrust sharply back in.

“There it is.” Hopper groaned. “God, woman, you feel good.”

“You too.” She nodded frantically, nails scraping up his shoulders.

There wasn’t much talking after that, aside from curse words and _harder_ or _faster_ or _just_ _there_. Joyce ground her hips up every time he thrust forward, wanting that friction that would help get her there again. Hopper must have known what she wanted because he reared back, bringing one of his hands up to his mouth to suck his two middle fingers into his mouth. Then he brought those fingers between them, rubbing tight, quick circle around her until she was there again.

“Jim, fuck.” She managed to gasp, body going tight around him as she shook with the force of the orgasm. Hopper grunted, fucking into her harder with shorter thrusts until he let out an almost startled sounding moan as he came as well.

He was heavy. Too heavy for her to breathe right, so she nudged him over and Hopper rolled off her, but kept one leg and his arm over her, and Joyce wrapped her legs around his, grabbing hold of his arm just under her breasts.

“That make up for the shitty first showing?” he mumbled after a bit and Joyce broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Yeah.” She looked over at him. “More than.”

“Good.” He smiled, eyes closing. Joyce sighed, rolling over to face him so she could nuzzle her nose into his throat. They lay there like that for a bit, but eventually Joyce had to get up and use the bathroom. Then she grabbed a glass of water and came back into the bedroom where Hopper was sitting up against the headboard, sheet tossed over his lap.

“Drink?” she offered and he took it from her, draining nearly half as she climbed into his lap, straddling his hips. He reached over to sit the glass on the nightstand, then cupped her hips in his hands, leaning back to look up at her with a grin on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He grinned even wider until she poked his chest. “I just found out that apparently you like to call me Jim when you come, too. That’s going to make it all sorts of fucked up when you’re mad at me now.”

“Shut up.” She poked him again, then settled her head on his shoulder.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked, fingers dancing up and down her spine. “About the house?”

“I think it’s lovely and I would love to live with you there.” She said without lifting her head. She felt his chest hitch on a caught breath, his hand flattening on her lower back and pressing her closer.

“In your own room, or in mine?” he asked with an awkward tinge to his voice and Joyce lifted her head to look at him, cupping his face in both her hands.

“In ours.” She said firmly, a smile on her face, one that he matched.

“Good.” He turned his head to press a kiss to her palm, then brought both her hands in his and held them to his chest. “You wanna get married?” he surprised the shit out of her by asking.

“What?” she breathed, heart skipping and then racing.

“I mean, as long as you’re going to be my girl, it doesn’t bother me. But I thought, maybe, you'd want to marry me.”

“If I said yes, wouldn’t you need a ring to make this a real proposal?” she teased.

“I got a ring, actually.” He smirked. “It was in one of those boxes that were stored in my closet in the cabin.”

“I didn’t go through them.” She lifted a brow at him. “Why’d you have an engagement ring already?”

“Calm down.” He chuckled. “It was my mom’s. Grandma’s before that. Nothing fancy. Just a gold wedding band.”

“Sounds perfect.” Joyce leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

“Is that a yes, then?” he asked. “You wanna get married?”

“I don’t want a big wedding.” She warned. “We can wait until we get moved into the new house, have just a little get together in the backyard with the kids and our friends. And I’m not wearing a white dress.”

“I’m not wearing any sort of suit.” He warned back.

“Good.” She smiled. “I like your butt in Wranglers anyway.”

Hopper laughed at that. “Nice to know. You gonna wear jeans too?”

“No.” she swatted his shoulder. “I’ll take El and Nancy and they can help me pick something out. Something simple.”

“Sounds good.” He let his head fall back against the headboard, eyes closing. “The kid’ll like that.”

Joyce gave a hum of agreement, laying back against his chest and letting her eyes close. She was content and happy and looking forward to whatever they had coming together.

“Hey, Hop?” she mumbled against his chest and he grunted to let her know he heard her. “Does this mean you love me?”

Hopper chuckled, the sound low and rumbly against her ear. “Yeah, Joyce. Thought you knew that?”

“Still wanna hear it.” She grinned against his chest.

He lifted his head, pressed a kiss to her hair. “I love you, Joyce.”

“That’s nice.” She pressed a kiss to his chest. “Because I pretty much love you, too.”


End file.
